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Nothing new under the sun
"It isn't enough for a sole voice of reason to exist. In this time of uncertainty, we are so sure that villains lurk around every corner that we will create them ourselves if we can't find them — for while fear may keep us vigilant, it's also fear that tears us apart — a fear that sadly exists only too often — outside the Twilight Zone." This is the closing narrative from an episode of The Twilight Zone that first aired March 4, 1960: The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street. Poetry or prose
Cover image for post Wringe Horrific, by GerardDiLeo
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GerardDiLeo
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Wringe Horrific

"Uncle Mortimer!" said little David.

"Uncle!" said little Rachel.

"Tell us about Wringe," asked little David.

"Tell us how it's the most horrible, terrifying, scary thing in the whole world," asked little Rachel.

"Where'd you hear about that?" he asked them.

"From you," said David.

"In your journal," said Rachel.

"Please!" begged David.

"Yes," added Rachel.

"Oh! Tell us!" they shouted together.

Mortimer lit candles and waited for them to settle. The wavering flames grew threatening shadows on their beds.

"You must be very brave," he warned, "to even hear about Wringe Horrific. It's not for children. Just knowing about it hurts."

"We're brave," boasted David.

"And strong," bragged Rachel.

"Very well," Mortimer began.

Their being small children, he would spare them the full details. Still, were these two ready to hear what Wringe did? Even what its urine could do to people. Or how it digested someone? Or the other horrific things?

If there were limits to cruelty and pain, they weren't in this Hell-beast: cruelty upon cruelty atop brutality upon savagery upon superhuman tortures. Mortimer, strangely immune, knew many had died of fright just hearing about it.

The Wringe story can hypnotize the teller. Caught up in his storytelling, he was bewitched to the point where he continued, unabated, without regard to the small boy and girl. He didn't notice the wide-eyed terror on their faces. He couldn't appreciate the precipitous, headlong rush of adrenaline seeding their bloodstream. Their racing pulse or their cold sweats. Or the hair falling out as he spoke.

Their parents arrived next morning; they awakened Mortimer but couldn't arouse their two children.

"What have I done!" shouted Mortimer.

Later, doctors examined the children at the apothecary in town. Sadly, their comas persisted, week-by-week; then for months. They were wan; they had sores. They festered. David would choke periodically, requiring resuscitation. Rachel lost several toes with a black foot, imperiled. Their parents took shifts, but Mortimer remained bedside.

One miraculous day, David and Rachel re-opened their eyes!

Mortimer was beside himself with joy; their parents were summoned. The children awoke confused but, finally, they spoke.

"Whoop!" choked David. "Again!"

"Yea! Again!" shouted Rachel.

"Oh! Tell us again!" shouted both, together.

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